Dog Tags
by SaintJames
Summary: Eric visits Speed's grave. Slash, sad.


**I went by my brother's grave today and it made me think of this. The story's called Dog Tags because my brother was a Marine and he left me his… I still wear them, even though it's been four years, and whenever I see a pair it reminds me of him. Okay, enough rambling from the peanut gallery. It's sad, but enjoy. As always, I don't own anything publicly recognizable. This is dedicated to my big brother Wyatt and reviews would be very much appreciated. ~Callum. **

Eric's breath caught in his throat as he crouched next to the grave marker.

"You're _dusty_," he whined, trying to keep his mind away from the fact that (a) he was talking to a dead man and (b) the dead man was his best friend. "I heard a song on the radio today," he mumbled, wiping away the dirt and grass that was lying on top of the marble bearing Speed's name. "It reminded me of you, but I don't know why." A gust of wind blew a tumbleweed (yes, a tumbleweed) across the open field before him.

"You don't have neighbors, still. I don't know if its sad that you get no company or good that people are still living out there." Eric sighed, unable to say the words he really wanted to, the words he really needed to.

"I was wondering earlier what you would be like if you were still alive today. There's this guy that H hired, his name's Ryan Wolfe. We give him a hard time because it's almost like he wants to replace you, but he's a good guy. All he wants is to do his job, and I guess he does a good job. I want to tell him that at some point, but… I dunno. God, I sound like a six-year-old girl." He shook his head and pulled a stone out of his pocket. "I found this outside of my apartment this morning, and I thought you'd like it. Have you ever seen a purple stone?" Cautiously, Eric dropped it into a little well that was normally used to put flowers in. It had yet to be used for that because, hell, this was _Speed_. Lord knows he would kill the man (or woman) to put flowers on _his_ grave. No, people would put notes or small gifts like the purple stone.

"I wrote down the lyrics to that song. It's called _Take a Step Back_ by Every Avenue. I don't know what made me think of you, but hell… It describes us well, know that I think about it." Eric took a breath and unfolded the paper before him.

"It's all big talk until something happens, the words mean nothing 'till they're followed by actions, keep your mouth moving but your body still, you'll never his the target if you're shooting empty shells. Slow it down know and take a step back, take a step back, hold on tighter, we're gonna make this count. It's a shot in the dark, against all odd, they said we'd never make it this far, well look at us now, we've found our way. Life is what you make of it, so maybe your faults, wonder what we could bend, looking back on this, I wanna know I made the best, saving the rest for the grave. Pulling out the pockets to show what we got, asleep at the wheel, dreaming and driving, rather hit rock bottom than be stuck second guessing, they have the answers but they don't know the questions. Come on, lets make something happen, we'll make mistakes and know learn our lessons. Slow it down know and take a step back, take a step back, hold on tighter, we're gonna make this count. It's a shot in the dark, against all odd, they said we'd never make it this far, well look at us now, we've found our way. Life is what you make of it, so maybe your faults, wonder what we could bend, looking back on this, I wanna know I made the best, saving the rest for the grave. Hey, hey! Slow it down now, hey, hey! Slow it down now, we've got this under control. Hey, hey, slow it down now. Hey, hey, slow it down now, we've got this under control. Slow it down know and take a step back, take a step back, hold on tighter, we're gonna make this count. It's a shot in the dark, against all odd, they said we'd never make it this far, well look at us now, we've found our way. Life is what you make of it, so maybe your faults, wonder what we could bend, looking back on this, I wanna know I made the best, saving the rest for the grave."

Eric rubbed his eyes and dropped the folded paper into the flower well. "I miss you, Speed. Damn, I never thought I'd be able to say something like that to you, you know? I just… I dunno. You were my best friend and so much more. I wish I had worked up the nerve to tell you that before you got shot. I love you, Speed. I never said it, but I can tell you knew. And… Now I'm fucking crying. Great." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and traced the raised letters that spelled out _Timothy M. Speedle_. "You'd slap me and call me a little girl. And I'd laugh and call you a pedophile."

"We had fun, Speed. Nobody can replace you, nobody can come close. I used to think the pain would fade with time, but it hasn't. I know now that time just makes you more used to the pain." Eric sighed and proceeded to tell the grave marker everything that had happened since he'd last visited the cemetery. He talked about the cases at work and how Marisol and Horatio were going to get married soon the most.

"I met somebody last week. He's a really nice guy, his name's Derek. I think you'd like him. Actually, you'd like his bike. He rides a Ducati too, but his is green. He asked me out and I said yes. It felt like I was cheating on you at first, but… I'd have wanted you to find someone new if I had died. I hope you aren't mad at me." Eric looked up, blinking rapidly, as he face was pelted with droplets of rain.

"The sun ran from me, Timmy!" he cried childishly. "I blame Alexx. It always rains when she gets mad, did you notice that? Ryan refused to do _something_, from what she said, but I wasn't really paying attention. I couldn't get you out of my mind. I miss you, so much, and- shit!" Eric sighed deeply as he looked at his phone. "There's a crime scene I need to go to, Speed. It's an all hands. We haven't had one of those in a long time. I have to go now, but I'll be back soon. I love you, okay? Don't forget that…" And then, suddenly, Eric was gone. Speed was sitting on top of his own grave, listening to his still living widower (could you even call him that?) talk the whole time.

"I love the stone, I love the song, and I miss you. I love you too, Eric, so, so much." Speed was lonely at the cemetery, but it was days like this that made it worthwhile. Days where Eric would come and just talk to him for hours. He missed that.


End file.
